


Little Sweet Potato

by verymerrysioux



Series: Love, Duty and Potatoes [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25548973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verymerrysioux/pseuds/verymerrysioux
Summary: At fifteen, he chops his hair and enlists in the army. At seventeen, he fights a war that spans across the ages. At twenty, he adopts a child.The last one surprises him.AU of Love is Not a Potato
Relationships: Time & Warriors (Linked Universe)
Series: Love, Duty and Potatoes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1746250
Comments: 27
Kudos: 175





	1. the early bird catches the worm

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on another fic, [Love is Not a Potato](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23712469/chapters/56937538) by [EstaJay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EstaJay/pseuds/EstaJay). So I suggest you read that first.
> 
> My brain: Hey what if
> 
> No beta, I die like Hyrule Warriors soldiers.

In another time, his plea is denied. Argument after argument shot down with the unwavering knowledge of time and space itself at risk. They know it, he knows it.

He is reminded of duty, of something greater to consider. And it silences him, because how can he fight against time itself? How can he risk it? Duty is what fuels his conviction, is what gave him the determination to be (a guard, a fighter, a captain) a hero.

A promise is broken before it even begins. Shattered into jagged pieces and force-fed into him as he sees the kid. Sees his resigned slump and tired eyes, sees him force an understanding smile. 

“Ah, no go, huh?” The kid jokes. “I figured.”

He’s not sure it’s a mercy that he doesn’t have to explain (that even in this, he has no more courage to speak).

The shards of the broken promise stab at his heart as he sees the kid enter the portal. Leaving. Never coming back.

Grief, anger, and hate bleed out of him, and he wonders if he truly deserves to be called a hero.

He has a duty to protect the people, isn’t family one of them?

* * *

In this time, his plea is denied. Argument after argument shot down with the unwavering knowledge of time and space itself at risk. They know it, he knows it.

He talks to Lana early today. 

This, in itself, should not be something new or amazing. Sometimes he talks to Lana in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon, and there are rare few that he talks to her at night.

It’s mere coincidence that he woke up a little bit earlier, a sleeping Young Link kicking him on the side and jerking him awake. He decides he might as well start his day. He gets dressed, skips breakfast, and walks to Lana’s tent. 

Sometimes a few seconds can make a difference.

He is alone when speaking to her, no distractions met on his way. No reminders of duty, of the oaths he swore as a Hyrulean knight.

There is nothing to wipe the determination on what he aims to do.

He talks and talks as if spewing more words will change her mind. That his words alone will make the universe reconsider what it needs to keep itself stable. That the timeline doesn’t need one little boy.

A boy who likes playing the ocarina, who saves his rupees to have enough to buy a cute mask in the Bazaar, who loves naps and sweets.

Who looked up to him with shy hope as he promised to take him in, care for him, be family.

Pleas turn to begs turn to demands. 

Something in him breaks when he imagines the crestfallen face of the kid if he can’t do this. He knows, deep down, that this is a selfish request. That making it happen risks so much. That he has the duty as a knight to protect the kingdom.

But surely there’s a line. And as he fights for the right of a child to have happiness, he wonders if this is one of them. He wonders if he’s skirt duty before.

(For if duty had been his only compass, then he would have stayed a dutiful daughter. Would have let his family decorate him with flowers and ribbons sprinkled with the word “she”, soaked in the praise of his delicate beauty, married a boy, became a mother.)

"You owe me," he hisses, echoing Artemis' words days ago, when both of them had been surveying the flattened earth that was once a village. She had joked about it, weak and fake, that if they ever survived, Lana and Cia owed them big with the trouble they brought. "You _owe_ me."

He wishes the war was a joke. Wishes the torn bodies under rubble were fake, wishes scorch marks from fire arrows don't decorate their forts' walls, wishes he never had memories of killing his men because they were so tired-angry-bitter of this war.

Wishes to the Triforce itself that his hometown hadn’t been-

“The witch of time can jump in and out everywhen, but Lady forbid a kid stays in one era?”

(He still loved his parents, even if they hadn’t talked in years. He had hoped that maybe one day, they would come around.)

"That's not how that works," Lana protests. "We can't-"

(They can’t come around if they’re dead.)

"What? Fuck with time and toss it around for other fuckers to have sloppy seconds?" He snorts, words turning crass as frustration (and panic, what if she still says no) grows. "Far too late for that, don't you think?"

Lana winces. 

He laughs. "You think closing the portals will fix this?" He gestures wide. "You think your mess—don't give me that look, you were once the witch of time—will be forgiven once that's done?"

“That’s uncalled for,” she whispers.

He knows.

Cia, the whole Cia, had been tricked and used. He knows she tried, he’s talking to the literal part of her who actively went against the insanity. He knows the one who started the war had been killed and sealed by his hand, and it's not the woman (or her other half) before him.

He knows it’s unfair, but he doesn’t care enough to hold back his harsh words. Not this time. He'll pick any scab for this, dig in deep if he has to. 

Duty had been his guide for years. First as a guard, then as a knight. But for this, he would put it aside. Family before duty.

 _(Family before_ **_duty._ ** _)_

Pulling at Lana’s guilt is laughably easy. The war didn't just leave scars, it left gaping maws for wounds. Bleeding, pus-filled, and raw.

Too many dead, too much destroyed, too few alive, too little salvaged.

This is just the start. Hyrule will be ripe for the pickings for other kingdoms, greedy for their blessed land and magic.

And if the fate of Hyrule doesn't pull at her heartstrings, he knows one other thing that can.

(There is one constant with Lana and Cia, and it’s their love for the hero.)

"You think you're doing him a favor?" He says, soft and accusing. "I don't need a healer to know that throwing a kid who's just been through war in an era where people won’t know what happened to him is a horrible idea."

Her lip trembles.

"You don't just owe me." He leans forward, making sure his justified scowl doesn't mutate to a triumphant smirk. "You owe him."

* * *

Lana tells him she’ll talk to Cia about it.

He’s wary about having Cia do anything in general. But if there’s one person who’d be willing to pull the dimensional strings to let the kid stay? It would be her.

So he nods and gives a curt thanks, keeping his face neutral as she summons her own portal and leaves. It’s only when the portal blips out of existence that he lets out the breath he was holding.

Okay.

It’s… not good, but not horrible either. A soft maybe is a lot better than a hard no, and he’s dealt with far more stubborn refusals about his life (his identity, his choices, his dreams).

He trudges back to camp. Even with the war of ages over, there was still a lot of cleaning up to do. Protection and relief for the affected villages, and preparations for the possible (inevitable) war they’ll have against Calatia.

He opens the flap to his tent and sees the kid, Young Link, pacing around, muttering numbers under his breath. Seconds, or maybe milliseconds. The kid always had a knack for telling time, and found both comfort and anxiety in keeping track of it.

He enters the tent, the kid stops and looks up.

“Impa’s looking for you, she’s doing a headcount on the non-locals,” the kid states, nonchalant. His posture is loose and casual, as if he hadn’t been making a ring path with his walking a while ago. “Agitha’s gone with the other Era of Twilight people to go back, Midna’s gathering all the Twili, and Ruto and Darunia are preparing to leave.”

What about me? Is the unasked question. One neither of them want to acknowledge. He doesn’t know the answer to that. There’s one both of them want, but they’d be hard pressed to get it.

The cards are stacked against him. Always. This is something he’s gotten used to. He wishes the kid wasn’t dragged in by it.

He sighs and gestures to their makeshift bed of blankets. The kid scrambles to it, shuffling to his side once he sits. He has no energy to scold him about his boots on the bed again.

He takes a few moments to organize his thoughts, letting the kid tug and fiddle with the scarf.

“I talked to Lana,” he says. “She’s gone back to the Temple of Souls to talk to Cia.”

“About me?”

“Yeah.” He hesitates, wondering if telling more would be worse. Then decides he might as well. Lying was one of the few things the kid hated. And he thinks it’ll be crueler to give the kid false hope. “They want to bring you back, said something about keeping the timeline stable.”

The tugging stops, the kid’s fingers stopping at the end of his scarf. “I figured,” the kid mutters, tracing the Hyrule emblem embroidered on it. “Thanks.”

He snorts. “Didn’t really do much.” They’re not even sure if the kid will be allowed to stay.

They talked about it once, on what the kid wants to do when he goes back. The kid had gone quiet, then admitted he was scared to go back. He had thought that was what he wanted long ago. But his adventures made him different and the people around him didn’t change. 

It was too much.

“If I go back, I’ll just start chasing N-... chasing the past again,” he had said. “I don’t want to do that anymore.”

The next words he said were spur of the moment, but he’ll never regret it. The kid wormed his way to his heart rather quickly, and caring for him was a soothing balm to the neverending battles he had to endure. 

“Why not stay here?” The shocked look he got told him to continue. “Officially, I adopted you. Stay with me, we could be family.”

Family.

“You fought for me,” the kid murmurs, resting his head on his leg. “That counts for something.”

“That’s what family-” Should do. “-does.”

* * *

It’s Cia who tells the news herself.

Unfazed by the glares and wary looks the soldiers give her, she struts to his tent like she scheduled a meeting and he’s the one who had the audacity to be late.

There are no chairs or tables in his tent besides the one that holds the map of Hyrule, a mess of notes, and several small and large scale tokens he uses. So they stand instead. It’s awkward and uncomfortable, but Cia’s the last person he cares about unless she’s bleeding to death. And the sooner she leaves, the better.

The kid is with him, gripping his scarf tight as he glares at Cia.

“There are points in history that lead to your Hyrule,” she says, for once not drooling at him like a piece of fat juicy meat. There’s a look in her face, calculating and serious, one that makes him see how she once could have been the guardian of time. “Points that the Hero of Time himself made. If those events don't happen while the Hero of Time exists in this era, a paradox would be the nicest word to describe it.”

The words sink deep into his heart. “So he can’t stay.”

She hums, tapping a finger on her staff. “Points are different from lines,” she comments. “Despite Hyrule’s fervent belief, the world isn’t completely reliant on the hero. Time is a lot more flexible than most people think.”

He’s not following. “... So he can stay?”

She sighs, then looks at the kid with a silent demand.

The kid blinks. He lets go of his scarf to cross his arms, face scrunched up in an adorable expression of focus. He stares at Cia’s expectant look and hums, mulling over her words.

“There are things I have to do, at the right time and place,” the kid concludes, he continues when Cia gives a nod. “But it doesn’t mean I constantly have to be there. I can’t stay here all the time, but I don’t have to stay _there_ indefinitely either.”

Cia smiles, a lazy cat-like expression of satisfaction. “Time has always been your domain,” she purrs. Hm, there’s the Cia he knows and doesn’t love. “Your innate ability to understand its flow has always fascinated me-”

Better nip this in the bud. “Get to the point.”

She sighs gustily. “Ruin my fun, won’t you?” He ignores her pout, furiously wiping it off his mind. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty. The little hero can stay, _but_ -” She puts up a finger. “-there will be times he has to go back and make certain events happen, to ensure this version of this timeline will still be acceptably intact.” 

“Acceptably?” That didn’t sound good.

“Even if the little hero goes back, things will change,” she explains. “Perhaps the baker you knew won’t build their bakery in that exact spot, perhaps a house will be painted white instead of yellow, perhaps your dead name will be different—the spelling, the pronunciation, the name itself. The end result won’t change, you chose to be Link.” 

She points her staff at him. “The aim for this isn’t to keep the timeline the same, unless you changed your mind and don’t want him to stay?”

“No.” Never.

“Then to keep it the same is impossible,” she scoffs. “The next best thing is to keep it from splitting. Changes that will make the timeline shift, but not big enough that it will splinter and form new ones as a result.” 

“You can change as many things in a town as you want, but it won’t matter if the moon still falls on them,” the kid muses. “A change that would matter is the moon not falling, and that’s hard to do.”

“A morbid example, but accurate,” she agrees. “If the points are equivalent to the moon falling, then that’s what you must assure will still happen.”

The kid lets out a contemplative hum.

“Lana is currently making a portal that will connect to your era and his era,” she continues. “This portal will be keyed to your blood so that nobody else can use it. We’ll figure out a way to notify you when you should go back.”

He feels lightheaded, giddy with hope. “So he can stay?”

She gives him a long look. “Yes, he can stay.” She lets out a soft smile, so similar to Lana’s he would have felt shocked in any other day. “Congratulations, captain, you’re a father now.”

Din’s sizzling orbs, he is, isn’t he? 

A sharp tug breaks him from the elation of his request being pushed through.

“I don’t have to leave?” The kid asks, eyes wide, the grip on his scarf is so tight that his knuckles have paled to white.

“No,” he says, grinning. He bends down to wrap the kid in his arms and whispers, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, you little shit.”

The soft rustle of the tent flap alerts him that Cia has left, and he’s grateful she still has the decency to give them privacy. The kid hugs back, holding as tight as his little arms could. 

“I don’t have to leave,” the kid repeats, voice shaking. 

“No, you can stay,” he says. “If you want to.”

The kid laughs, and for once it’s not filled with the bitterness and exhaustion he often hears. “I want to,” he assures, giving a shy smile. “I never had a dad before.”

“Well, I never had a son before,” he says casually, lifting the kid up. He’s light, should ten-year-olds be this light? The kid didn’t eat much, and rations aren’t enough for a growing boy, he was small enough as it is. He’ll probably need a check up beyond he’s-not-currently-dying. “Guess we’ll both be learning new things from now on, huh?”

“Yeah.” The kid buries his face deep in his scarf. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t mention the hiccups in the kid’s voice, or the growing dampness on his scarf. “It’s what family does.”

He thinks of his uncle screaming at his defense, not truly understanding but understanding enough that it was important for his nephew. Of his other uncle, quiet and contemplative, who took his words with a bemused hum and asked what he should call him now—and decides, yes, family above duty is a rule he doesn’t mind following.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love my Warriors & Time fluff, okay?
> 
> Yay, nay, or meh?


	2. bubbles in baths make everything better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bubbles are popped, names are made, and realizations are catching up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm an impatient gremlin that wanted to post this soon. This is the last completed chapter I've done. Why am I like this.
> 
> No beta, I'm a disaster.
> 
> Many thanks to [EstaJay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EstaJay/pseuds/EstaJay) for being my muse and sharing brainfarts! owo

He realizes he has to find a bigger place to stay now that he has a kid to worry about. His bedroom in the castle isn’t big enough for two people, and even he has to admit that it looks barely liveable. Bare, yes. Liveable? Pushing it.

So a new house for both of them.

It had to be near the castle since his job as both a bodyguard and a knight would demand quick responses from him when he’s summoned. Castletown would be the only choice, which is a challenge in itself. The town may be big, but it was also _crowded_. Being a central trading hub would do that.

He sighs, already hearing Proxi’s smug tone once she sees him looking at the different postboards for houses and apartments. It was a common complaint of hers that he should get better quarters in the castle, or at least nearby housing.

Someone who was willing to pretend to be the princess so that when attackers strike, he would take the blow instead of her, deserves better than a simple bedroom. But he was from a no-name family, they wouldn’t give their best rooms to peasant servants, no matter how risky their jobs were. He and Artemis hadn’t been friends yet either. He had been lucky to get a room all for himself.

And once he had both the position and connections to gain better housing, he deemed it unnecessary. He spent most of his time training, strategizing, and guarding. Half the time he slept in Artemis’ room because it was more convenient. There was no need to waste all that space on him. Then the war came and every room was needed as either sanctuary, a temporary war room, or the soldiers’ sleeping quarters.

The nobles still kept their rooms, a rare few were willing to share theirs. Most refused to give an inch.

He thinks about the amount of space and _rooms_ in their quarters, more than enough to let the servants sleep in places that weren’t the cold wet dirt, and concludes Young Link wouldn’t have enjoyed living in the castle anyways. 

The kid has low tolerance for snooty attitudes on a good mood, to expose him to that constantly is asking for shins to be kicked. He’d likely only live there if most of the snobs dropped dead one day.

House hunting it is.

* * *

He’s glad his bags are enchanted to be bigger on the inside. It makes moving back to his bedroom quick and silent, no fuss or attention whatsoever. He’d change to his standard knight uniform just in case any of the servants see him. 

It’s late at night when they finally arrive in the castle, he’d been busy finishing the last of his paperwork and then shopping for basic necessities for Young Link. 

He doubts a lot of people are awake except the guards on night shift. But it didn’t hurt to be cautious. Rumors often do more harm than good, and better a rumor about a wandering soldier with a child than the hero with a child. Until he has his arrangements done, at least.

As he unlocks and opens the door, he wonders how he’ll break the news about adopting Young Link indefinitely. The papers he’d sign had been for registering the kid as a citizen and giving him a safety net in case something happened. He was just a temporary guardian for the kid until they found a way to bring him back home.

But the war kept going, and they realized the only way to bring _anyone_ back to their original era was to deal with the source of the portals first (they changed, appeared, and disappeared as they please).

So Young Link stayed, and both of them found things in common as time passed. The burden of being a hero, the isolation its responsibility brought, the pressure to not lose. 

The kid had been tired of being responsible for everyone and everything, while he had been sick of having to kill, destroy, and sabotage everything for the sake of his duty. 

The guardianship was a goddess-send to their sanity. He had to be a caregiver, to do something that needed kindness, patience, and love instead of the cold logic and efficiency he needed to lead the soldiers.

And Young Link? He didn’t know the whole story, but the pieces he had gave him a picture of someone who was forced to be an adult in so many aspects he’d forgotten how to be a kid again. Being cared for and protected gave him a chance to relearn it.

“We’ll be staying here for the time being,” he says, groping the side of the door, searching for the rune stone installed. Once his fingers touch grooves, he lets out a small spark of magic and hears the faint hum of the room’s circuits buzzing to life.

The lamps on the ceiling glow a soft white-blue, casting light on his bed and study. He grins as Young Link stares up with wide eyes, taking note of every circle and line etched on the ceiling and upper walls. 

Heh, and Proxi thought he was cheap. There’s a difference between not buying things because he didn’t want to spend rupees, and not buying things because he had zero interest in it.

Granted, lunet lamps and circuit carving hardly put a dent in his savings. But he’d grown up in a simple farm village, and most magic was only for healing potions and charms (and that’s if there was a villager who had learned a bit of the craft). 

Even after years of living in the castle, the thought of using magic for things like light, when an oil lamp or candle could do just as well, felt incredibly frivolous. He knew Artemis had been considering installing some in her room, more for the practicality of switching on a light when she needed to work, but still—it seemed over the top.

“Cool?” He asks, happy that Young Link got to see this side of his era’s technology, one unconnected to warfare. He places the bags next to his desk and watches as the kid checks every single thing in the room. The door to the bathroom, the closet, the potted plant, the dressing mirror, the bedside table, the bed. Everything.

“Really cool,” Young Link answers, removing his boots and leaning back on the bed with a loud flop. “I’ve been to a town that had magic lights, but yours is way better!”

He chuckles. “Hopefully we can have something similar in our new home.” Once he finds one. 

In retrospect, spending on upgrades was a bit of a waste since he was planning to move out. But he knew Young Link would love it.

“I’ll have to talk to Artemis about your stay before finding one,” he muses, closing the door.

“Artemis?”

Ah. “Princess Zelda,” he elaborates. “It’s a nickname we came up with when we were kids, since Zelda’s a popular name.” 

“As popular as Link?” The kid asks, raising an eyebrow. “Are you telling me there’s just as much Zeldas as Links here?”

If only he knew. “Pretty much.”

“Ugh.”

“Let’s call it a day and go to sleep,” he declares, putting out several items from his bags. “I say we deserve a nice relaxing bath.”

Young Link snorts. “Baths aren’t relaxing.” He puts his sword next to the bed and removes his cap. “Fun if it’s in a lake though.”

That’s because the little shit loved splashing anyone within reach (meaning it was him ninety percent of the time). “Ever had a hot bath?”

“Like the hot springs in Death Mountain?”

With Young Link’s standards for bathing, he dearly hopes he isn’t the type of kid who hates baths. Lady knew he was. “A bit like that. Except with more privacy and soap, and sometimes bubbles.” 

The kid looks intrigued. “Bubbles?”

He grins, thanking himself for also including plumbing in the upgrades. And buying a few scented oils and deluxe bubble bombs too. “You’ll see. I’ll draw the bath, you put your clothes in the basket over there.”

“Okay!”

Look at him, already spoiling his kid.

* * *

“It looks like a normal bath,” the kid observes, looking down on the warm water surrounding his legs. “The tub’s way bigger than in the inn I’ve been, but so what?”

He grins. “Hold your hand out.”

The kid does, and he places a tiny pink ball on his hand.

“... What’s this?”

“A bubble bomb.” He leans over the tub, making sure the towel around him hasn’t fallen off. “It was one of my favorite things to use when bathing, drop it in the water and see what happens.”

The kid looks at the pink ball and drops it with a shrug.

The ball sizzles and melts, and a burst of bubbles, colors, and aromas explode in the tub. The sweet scent of wildberries hits their noses. Glittering hues of bright pink with ribbons of soft blue and silvery white swim across the water. Bubbles, big and small, start to form on the surface, multiplying as the swirls of pink, blue, and white become thicker and thicker.

He laughs at the kid’s delighted squeal and claps. “Cool?”

“Really cool!” And as expected, he gets a splash of bubbly water to his face. “You just gonna stand there like a scrub or are you getting in?”

“Brat,” he snorts, wiping away the water. He removes his towel and hangs it on the rail. “Don’t splash too much, we need enough water to actually get ourselves clean,” he warns, dipping one foot in the tub.

He gets a flick of water for his reasonable request. “Booooo.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll still have fun.” He lets out a sigh as the warm water hits him, soothing his muscles. “Ever done bubble sculptures before?”

* * *

There was still a lot of splashing involved, and making hairdos out of frothy bubbles, as one often does in a bubble bath. There was a lot more water on the floors and walls at the end of it, and the whole room smelled of wildberries, but they were clean at least.

And it had been the first time he heard the kid giggle.

* * *

“You should have a new nickname,” he muses, lying on the bed, wearing a fresh pair of pajamas (when was the last time he slept in soft clothing instead of stumbling out of his armor and chainmail?).

“Why, what’s wrong with mine?” Young Link asks, choosing one of the pajamas he had bought for him. A pale lavender one with tiny triforces in shades of cream and gray dotted everywhere.

“Young Link feels too-” Impersonal. “-literal, and I bet there are a dozen other kids with a similar nickname too.”

“S’not my fault your Hyrule’s weird,” Young Link complains, pulling over the blanket. “You’d think grown-ups would choose another name for their kids after seeing literally everyone with the same name! I’ve never met another Link back in my era besides a Goron!”

He laughs at the put-out look the kid is sporting. “Parents like giving names that would inspire their kids, that’s why. A lot of heroes are named Link.”

“Well, duh, _because everyone is naming everything Link_.”

Brat. “What do you think of Jun?” He suggests. “I put in Junior when I filled your records, so why not that?”

Young Link blinks, then tilts his head and repeats the name several times. “Sounds pretty,” he says after a while. “Like juniper berries.”

He inhales sharply. Boys should have strong names, not soft and pretty ones. Nothing flowery and cute. “We can choose another one.”

“Nah, I like it.” Young Link smiles. “Jun’s nice, I want that name.”

He lets out a breath. “Alright,” he says. “But if ever you want to change it, we can.”

“Okay.”

“If there’s a time your name doesn’t fit you,” he murmurs, combing Young Link’s— _Jun’s_ hair. “I want you to know we can talk and work it out. Not just for your nickname.”

Jun huffs. “Just because everyone’s name is Link, doesn’t mean I want to throw away mine.”

“I mean it.” He really does.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jun wiggles further in the covers, snuggling against him. “Does that mean I should call you dad?”

Hylia, that’s going to take a while to get used to, him being a father. “If you want.”

“Dad,” Jun declares happily. “G’night.”

“... Good night, Jun.”

* * *

He wakes up hours later, the delayed horror of his current situation kicking him hard on the stomach. He’s a parent now.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, staring blankly at the ceiling.

And he has no idea how to be one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jun likes kicking his new dad awake, physically and metaphorically.


	3. flashbacks are a dramatic way of putting more drama in drama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which crushes are crushed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I feel like I'm just a narrator broadcasting a disaster's life rather than a writer. I type and think "Why are you like this? And you? And you? And you?"
> 
> Anyways, a very merry thanks to [EstaJay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EstaJay/pseuds/EstaJay) for joining, building, and riding this rollercoaster with me!
> 
> If you guys want another Warriors & Time family fluff story, check out her fic :[ Potatoes in Greener Pastures](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25803511/chapters/62676796).
> 
> No beta, I die like a turncoat soldier in Hyrule Warriors.

"I can't believe you got a baby and didn't tell me," Proxi huffs, crossing her arms and looking down at Link as he quietly leaves his bedroom. "I've been a good companion fairy, I've dealt with your stupid crush and stupider politics.” She throws her arms up. “But I had to find out you had a baby from maid servant gossip!”

Now one may ask how a tiny fairy could look down on a Hylian-sized man, the answer is simple: she can fly. 

“Maid servant gossip, Link!"

"Things have been hectic," he defends, shocked that Proxi already knows. They just got here last night, had rumors already spread? Was there a servant who stayed up late and saw them? He should never underestimate the eyes and ears of servants. "I was going to tell you once I settled in."

"Baby. You. Maid servant gossip."

"You make it sound more scandalous than it really is," he complains. "I adopted Jun, that's all."

"Jun?"

"Young Link."

Proxi gasps, zipping to his shoulder and slapping him. "You should have told me!” Slap. “It's not just a baby!” Slap, slap. “You finally got your baby!" More slaps.

"Keep your voice down!" He hisses, wincing as she slaps him again. "That hurts! Are you using lightning on me?"

"This deserves lightning for not telling me!" She shows off the crackling sparks on her fingers, aiming for another slap. "You've been fighting to keep Young Link here for months!” She doesn’t, but she snickers as he winces anyways. “You actually did it!"

He laughs, and Proxi doesn’t think she’s ever heard him sound so light before. "Yeah, I can't believe it, to be honest."

"Is he inside?" She asks, hovering at his door, she can see a small lump under the blanket of his bed.

"He is, he's sleeping right now." He glances back, a soft smile growing as the lump shuffles to the empty side. "... Can you-"

"Watch over him while you're doing whatever business you're going to do?" She finishes, giving him a cheeky grin. "If I didn't know any better, I would have said you were using me as a free babysitter."

"He does behave better around fairies.”.

She gives him a deadpan look. “Better doesn’t mean he’s an angel.”

“What kid truly is?”

“It’s only been a day and you’re already giving parental wisdom,” she snorts. “Go be a captain and do captain things, I’ll watch over Young Link.”

“Jun.”

“I’ll watch over Jun. Now go,” she shoos. “The sooner it’s done, the sooner you can get back. You know Yo-Jun gets antsy when you’re gone for too long.”

* * *

It's early enough that he only sees the scullions doing their morning cleaning. Everyone else is still asleep, or likely in the process of blinking the sleep off their eyes. The hallways are fairly empty.

He doesn't slow his brisk pace. Proxi is right that Jun gets worried when he's gone for too long. Considering they met and bonded through war, it's understandable. 

Hiserrands won't be short either. He's likely to debrief Artemis on everything regarding Jun's stay, there might be paperwork involved too (one can hope to escape paperwork, one can dearly hope).

He quiets his steps when passing by Forest's room. The man always had a sixth sense on finding him in the most inconvenient of times, and he is not in the mood to deal with him and the issues he carries. He never is.

Once passed the hallway, he walks faster, not slowing until he makes a turn to the corner. Letting out a sigh of relief when he doesn't hear the desperate cry of his dead name.

He keeps walking, steadying his breath and quelling his shame. A man should face his problems head on, yet look at what he's doing. It's been five years. He should deal with it.

(A man should know the meaning of no. It's been five years. He should get over it.)

A minute later, he's in front of his best friend's door. He knocks once, twice, thrice. And plasters a nervous smile when the door opens and out comes the princess, all dressed for her morning routine.

"Arty, I'm a dad," he blurts out before she can say anything. "And I have no idea how to dad."

Birdsong fills the awkward silence as the two stare at each other.

"Help?" He adds.

Princess Zelda of Hyrule blinks three times. Looks up for a moment, looks back at her friend, and sighs.

"Can you talk and braid?" She asks, gesturing at her half-tamed hair. "You've always been better at it than me."

* * *

“First off: You do know Madame Ingrid will lecture you about protection when she finds out, right? She’s not stingy with protection charms like other healers.”

He sputters, nearly dropping the brush. “He’s adopted!”

She feels the hair tie thrown at her face is undeserved.

“He?” When did he have time to find a child to take in? Was this after everyone returned to their original-

“Yeah, Young Link.” A laugh. “Lana and Cia worked something out, isn’t it great?”

Oh.

* * *

She wants to voice out her thoughts, to lecture him on the risks he's bringing by letting Young Link stay. The Hero of Time was a pivotal figure in Hyrule's history, paving the way to the Hyrule they all live in.

His contributions to the kingdom hadn't stopped with the evil Gerudo King. There had been the strengthening of bonds with the Gorons and Zora after the first civil war, his peaceful methods of handling the Gerudo, the new alliance with the Rito, he even helped in the second civil war - his protection of the princess vital in quelling the rebellions.

But as she formulates all the possible things that could happen (or even unhappen) with Young Link staying here, picking and gathering all the logic she can see in mere seconds. As she thinks of all the ways she can convince her friend to bring Young Link back to his era, she feels gentle fingers comb her hair. Weaving the strands with meticulous ease.

It's familiar.

Different in many ways. Rough calluses instead of soft fingers, the scent of leather and armor grease instead of perfumes of flowers, a smooth tenor instead of the sweet musical soprano voice she had once envied.

But also painfully familiar. The camaraderie, the playfulness, the ever feeling of safety because she could trust him with her life (and anything attached to it). The growing smile on his face, genuinely goofy instead of the constructed charm he made for himself. The light in his eyes, one she knows has never been this bright for years.

How long has it been since they've done anything like this? To just talk and help each other dress up? How long has it been since they shared something besides war strategies and politics? 

Since that day in the parlour, where he had poured out pieces of his soul to three people he trusted and got two of them crushed for his efforts?

Probably.

How long had it been festering in his mind? Keeping it a secret to both family and friends? Wondering if he’ll be thrown away if he told?

She wonders if he felt he was proven right as she'd done nothing. And would have continued to do nothing for years if she hadn't seen him on happenstance.

Can she do that again? Doing nothing wracked herself with endless guilt once, can she actively do something against his wishes? His hopes? His trust?

(She has a duty as a princess, as the queen, as the leader of her kingdom.)

Can she lose that trust again?

She wants to voice out the wrongs of this choice, she doesn’t need divine wisdom to know this is a-

_As the shouts got louder and louder and louder, she tried to find refuge by looking at Lin (Link? Linkle?), hoping for the confidence and laughter she always leaned onto._

_But none of those are there, only crushing silence and heavy resignation, and her (his?) eyes say one thing._

_‘This was a mistake.’_

“Why are you asking me?” She says instead, laughter bubbling in her chest as he bemoans how Young Link will be a terror just like him. And it would be karma. “Lin, I don’t have kids. And if you think otherwise, I’m not above throwing you out the window.”

“You deal with nobles all the time!”

“You do too,” she points out. “And it’s an insult to his intelligence that you’re comparing him to the nobles.”

(But duty was hell without her best friend.)

She feels a slight tug as he wrestles with a few tangles.

"He's smart in a lot of ways," he sighs, reaching forward to get the comb on her dresser. She feels the bristles slide down her hair. "But he's still a kid in a lot more."

"Still better than the nobles."

He snorts. "Arty, a lot of things are better than the nobles."

She hums. "What about Impa?" She suggests. "She dealt with us when we were kids."

"Din, bless her, she did."

"-and I know she has a godchild back in Kakariko."

The brushing stops. "She does?"

"I think so.” She taps her chin. “I've seen her buy a toy once and when I asked she said it was for her godchild. That was years ago."

"Huh." He puts back the brush and reaches for one of her ties. "I guess that explains why she's so good at handling Jun."

"I wouldn't be surprised if Young Link-"

"Jun."

"Jun is similar to Sheikah children, he acts like he’s been around Sheikah before," she muses, remembering how easy it had been for him to figure out she wasn't a true Sheikah. "He follows Impa when you're not around, and he calls her nai."

A pause. "Yeah." And oh, she knows that tone. It's the dreamy tone he gets when reminded of his crush on the Sheikah general, the tone that tells her she doesn't have to look back and check to know he was red as a tomato right now. "She's... she's good with kids, then."

"Murder kids, at least," she jokes, turning slightly. Young Link was as dangerous as he is tiny and cute. "Why don't we pay her a visit? I’m sure you’ll like that after I give you the stack of paperwork you'll need for your new son."

He groans.

She reaches back and pats his arm. "Paperwork never leaves."

* * *

Hair combed and braided for her. Nerves a bit calmer for him, though replaced with trepidation as Artemis listed off the _basic_ files Jun would need beyond his adoption papers (and even that would need updating). They both set out to Impa's office.

They talk along the way, Artemis asking how he’d been doing in the army, what he’s been training so far, how was his uncle. As if she wasn’t aware of his skills in fighting, as if she hadn’t read his military files days after she found him. 

He answers her questions, adding little tidbits here and there to make her giggle.

She doesn’t ask about what happened after he left, doesn’t ask why he left, doesn’t ask why he didn’t try to contact her. 

“Do you think she’ll be there this early in the morning?” He asks, feeling his cheeks burn at the thought. Din, he thought he’d be less of a mess considering they fought a war together. But the moment there isn’t any battle, he goes back to being a stuttering awkward teen.

“There’s no early in Impa’s vocabulary,” she snorts. “Just on time and too late, a woman who’d follow an impeccable schedule if the world wasn’t falling apart.”

He laughs. “Impressive considering she’s dealing with you!” He lets out a smile, thinking about seeing the general. “Impeccable… she definitely exudes that, doesn’t she?”

Impa is a woman of impeccable performance. Duty being her bread and butter when she has to be the guard of the princess and a general of Hyrule's army. Duty being her voice of reason when the war of ages began. Duty being the one to put her chin up as she ignored the cutting words of every Hylian that sneered at her white hair and red eyes.

She was someone to look up to, his puppy crush growing into more as he became a double for the princess.

Infatuation turned to admiration turned to love as he saw her devote her time, effort, and life to a cause with a noble air he wishes most actual nobles have. As he saw her mold her own image of what a woman can be (she is not girly or soft, but there is no doubt she is a woman, and she shows it without the need of dresses or perfumes or pretty ribbons adorned on her hair). As he saw her shake away the pettiness and insults like dust.

Duty made her strong and he wants to be the same. To gain the strength and pride she had in herself. 

So when he had been given the job as the princess' body double, he had taken it upon himself to go beyond being just a good enough copy. A double’s purpose was to protect, and he would be the best in it. A double that could and would fight. From kicks, to punches, to swords (after begging Uncle Jack to give him the basics, after sneaking into the army's spars, after demanding Forest to tell him all the lessons his tutors tried to instill on him).

When he had enlisted in the army, reciting the oaths a Hyrulean knight must uphold, he had added it to his duties as well. Protect the princess, protect the people, protect the kingdom.

Protect, protect, and protect.

It gave her purpose, it gave him purpose.

He’s sure she’d understand his choice. His consistent drive in asking for Jun’s stay. In protecting someone in need. He’s seen the quiet way she dotes on Jun, borderline hovering in her standards. She was far gentler with him even when he was at his most mischievous. And considering she had no qualms with shouting at who she thought was the twelve-year-old princess until he cried, that spoke of her patience with Jun’s antics.

* * *

She doesn’t understand.

* * *

Princess Zelda, ruler of Hyrule and known more fondly as Artemis to her friends, feels she has made a slight error in her prediction of her bodyguard’s reaction.

“You risked the entire universe for one boy?” Impa asks, disbelief heavy in her voice. “You would risk undoing all the work we’ve done to make Hyrule barely stable for a whim?”

Link stiffens. “A boy,” he says. “So he’s just a boy, now?”

She bites down the urge to let out a groan. Forget slight error, it’s a huge screaming red flag that she wilfully ignored through optimistic thoughts of everyone having the emotional competence to deal with things. 

And by things, she meant everything that didn’t have to do with fighting.

For all that Impa was a powerful and capable guard, a wise and experienced advisor, and a good general, she took duty to the extremes. Even if-

“That boy, as you’re calling him, would have been alone to handle the trauma if I let it be,” Link says coldly, fury burning in his eyes. “While the others have a family and home to return to, he has neither!” His whole face is red, and she doubts it's from flustered embarrassment like usual. “How could I let that stand? It wasn’t even a war he should have been part of! _”_

“There are bigger things to consider!” Impa snaps. “Sacrifices have to be made for the greater good!”

“Sacrifices?”

She closes her eyes, praying to the goddesses that the room will be intact after this disaster. Mentally preparing to pick up the pieces of the inevitable carnage.

People would have to be deaf to not hear the constant arguments Link had started with Lana after the war of ages officially came to an end. They’d have to be blind to not see the growing love he had with Young Link, the gentleness and care he gave to the child. They’d have to have had hollow cavities for hearts to try and stop Link’s attempts to make Young Link stay.

All of them thought it would be fruitless. The world isn’t fair and it’s best to accept it. But they wouldn’t be cruel enough to stop Link from trying. For all that Young Link was a menace, she doesn’t think anyone would stoop so low as to say that in a child’s face.

The world isn’t fair, the world is cruel, it takes and hurts. Why add to it?

“You would call him a sacrifice?” Link asks, his turn to voice out disbelief. “That ‘sacrifice’ adores you! He calls you _nai!_ ”

She sees Impa twitch, and from her experience, that may as well be a wince. Despite her cool exterior, Young Link had charmed Impa with his delicate balance of mental hardiness and child-like innocence. He hadn’t reacted with fear when meeting Impa, not like most Hylian children.

He loved pranking her. An odd prank of hide and go spook (one that extended to everyone in the army unfortunately). Sneaking up to her and trying to surprise her. Impa had always indulged in his mischief, only scolding him about his sneaking tactics.

She learns later that it’s an old Sheikah game, one that taught a child stealth. Impa theorized it was something he learned from his era. Records told of the princess having a Sheikah caretaker, Impa’s namesake, and Young Link said he was friends with the princess.

(She learns even later, the meaning of Young Link’s nickname to the general.)

She knows Impa has a heart, knows she had braced herself for the hurt, knows she detached herself from both Link and Young Link because of it, knows she had steered clear from Link after the last displaced was returned to their era.

“There’s a saying in my clan,” Impa says, face blank at the rising ire of Link. “Kokoyan o sarijin.”

She’d forgotten how easy the Sheikah are willing to trample hearts for duty, their own included.

“It means-”

“My country or myself,” Link translates stiffly. His posture is tense, and even the words felt like it had been pulled forcibly out of his gritted teeth. In another time, he would feel proud for surprising the general with his knowledge of Sheikan. This is not one of them.

“You’re not naive, captain. You know there are things we can’t always have, choices we’re forced to pick.” 

There are times she admires Impa for her conviction. 

“Kokoyan o sarijin?”

This was not one of them. 

Link says nothing, trembling, looking at Impa like he wanted to both skewer her with his spinner and plead to take back what she said. She wants to say something, to ease the tension, to calm her friend, to explain the details of Young Link’s arrangement as told by Link himself.

“Well, captain?” Impa sniffs, honest-to-goddess sneering at Link behind her cowl. “I’m waiting.”

She also wants to make Impa shut her stupid mouth. “That’s enough, Impa-!”

“No.”

She turns to look at Link.

“You say that as if those are the only choices in life,” he says. “My country or myself?” A scoff. “I choose neither.”

Impa would hold her duty until the very end, even if it tore her apart. Her body, her soul, her heart. A strong conviction, one she understands all too well with her own responsibility as a ruler. Duty is everything if failure meant the lives of others. 

For Impa, nothing was more important than duty. She’d joke about it often, but it’s only now she realizes the truth behind it. Nothing was more important. Not a captain she was interested in, or a little boy she cared for. 

This time it’s Impa who scoffs. “What choices can there be in this situation? You’re risking time itself for a boy.”

“That boy is my family,” Link answers coldly, spreading his arms. “And that’s my answer, general. Family.”

The country before your life, before wants and dreams, before anything else. A year ago, she would have been the same. She would have thought it noble.

Sacrifices have to be made to be a good ruler, this is something she still believes. There are things she has to risk to protect her home. Things she needs to shed to make Hyrule grea-

No, to _protect_ Hyrule.

-

_“You are nothing but ice,” the turncoat soldier spits, and he laughs as his blood stains her armor. “Everything you touch is cursed with pain. A pretty parasite in pink.”_

_“A traitor has no right to call me that.”_

_The laugh turns mocking._

_-_

“You would put family first before duty?”

“If need be.” Link doesn’t flinch, his words a solemn vow she knows he’ll follow. Words spoken in front of the princess and her general, either Link doesn’t care or he sees this as too important to keep quiet. Courage in its pure and stupid form. “I won’t forget my duties as a knight, but I can’t forget my promise to my son—to my family.”

“I once thought you had the strength of a Sheikah,” Impa says softly, shaking her head. “But now I see you are still Hylian, you let your emotions run you.”

“If you have a problem with that, then deal with it.” He turns his head up. “I’m Hylian, I won’t change that. I refuse to sacrifice any part of my identity.” He lets out a crooked smile. “Been there, done that, wouldn’t recommend.”

“Then you’re weak-willed.”

“Am I?”

“Sacrifice is something every warrior must endure.”

Sacrifices are inevitable for anyone. But surely there’s a limit? If you keep giving and giving and giving, would there be anything left for yourself?

These are the thoughts that run in her head as she sees her two most trusted people fight.

“Duty has given you strength,” he muses, anger deflating with every word. Replaced with disappointment. “I can’t say the same. I can’t do what you’ve done. To always follow duty would mean I wouldn’t be here today.” He laughs. “Din, I can even trace it to granny. If she had followed duty, she would never have married grandpa.”

“You know this is a mistake,” Impa insists. “You know this! Lana wouldn’t have refused you several times if there hadn’t been risks! Surely-!”

“The only mistake I see is Jun calling you _nai_ ,” Link snorts. “It’s a title you never deserved.”

Impa reels back as if she’d been punched by his gauntlets.

“Seems I’ve overstayed my welcome,” he sighs. “Apologies for disturbing you, general.” He nods at her. “Your grace.”

As he turns to leave, she wonders how she would have avoided this. She knew Impa would disagree with Link’s decision, but wouldn’t anyone? She had calmed down after Link told her, she thought Impa would be the same.

She had hoped Impa would be (happy, relieved, ecstatic—she had seen Impa glance at Link’s tent constantly, anxious to know if Young Link was gone but too scared to find out) fine with it. Or at least, not be too harsh on Link. To bite her lip and see how it goes.

After all, if push comes to shove, they can contact Lana again and bring Young Link back. Why not give this a chance? Why does the path of most misery have to be taken? Because it’s just? Noble? Strong?

She doesn’t know.

He turns the knob of the door and glances back. “I’ll give my written report by noon,” he says. “... Despite this, I have to thank you, both of you, for giving me what I have now.”

“Link!” she calls out. “Wait-!”

A short click and he’s gone.

-

_“Why should I follow a queen who only cares for the great land of Hyrule and not its people?”_

_“I won’t listen to a traitor’s lies.”_

_“Lies? War is expensive, you know?”_

_“It’s a sacrifice we have to-”_

_“Bread for swords, homes for shields, water for blood!” He hisses, digging himself deeper in her rapier to get to her closer. It’s unlikely he has the strength to push her, with the amount of blood spilling out of him, but she steps back anyways. “We pay taxes to send our people to die for the great land of Hyrule! We pay with the money we worked with our sweat and tears! We sacrifice to make more sacrifices! For honor! For duty!”_

_He laughs again. “And we’re expected to smile as we starve and wear rags! As we send our last farewells to our wives, our children, our brothers and sisters! I’m expected to follow a queen who would let children be soldiers out of some fucked up sense of duty!”_

_This again? She’s beginning to regret letting them stay, they’re bad for morale. “Young Link and Agitha are-”_

_“Children you wouldn’t give a damn if they died or not!” He roars. “I look at Agitha and I see my own fucking daughter!”_

_A beat._

_He coughs, face angled so his bloody spittle lands on her cheek. Why is she prolonging this?_

_“Must be nice, though,” he rasps wetly. With tears? With blood? She doesn’t (want to) know. “To have a bunch of dogs on your beck and call.” He tilts his head. “That Shink’s always with you, the hero’s no better too. If you told them to kill themselves, they’d ask which sword you would prefer.”_

_She sucks in a breath, his words a sharp sting to her face. “That isn’t true.”_

_“Denial again? Guess royals really are no better than nobles, they can’t accept their only redeeming feature is their riches.” He grins. “It is true, want to know why?”_

_No, she doesn’t._

_He leans forward and whispers, each breath fainter and fainter. “Because they’re the ideal slaves your family has molded. Free enough to think, but not enough to think for themselves. Duty before everything, and their duty is to you.”_

_The light is fading in his eyes, bleeding away with each second. But the spiteful gleam in it will stick just as much as his last words._

_“A pretty chain to match the pretty parasite in pink.”_

_-_

She wonders what would have happened if Link hadn’t knocked on her door and woken her up in an unholy hour. She wonders if the words of some nameless traitor would echo in her mind if she hadn’t seen the pure and genuine emotions in Link’s face. Emotions that she hasn’t seen in years.

(Happiness, wonder, love.)

She wonders why it took so long for her to notice.

She wonders what else she hasn’t noticed.

Would she have noticed if Link hadn’t snapped? If Link hadn’t stepped out of his box of what a (man, captain, guard) hero is? Would she have cared?

(Eventually, she would. A near decade of war and seeing her friend becoming the hollow shell of his former self, clinging to duty because he had nothing left. His parents, the siblings he never knew, a son he never had, and the uncles he thought he’d always have.)

(Helpless as she watches him work and work and work, burning himself out again and again. Duty first, because what else did he have?)

“This was a mistake,” Impa repeats.

“Whose?” She asks blankly, minutes ago she had laughed with an old friend. Now it’s two steps back to where they were, doubling even further with whatever progress he and Impa had ( _Everything you touch is cursed with pain_ , a voice whispers). “Whose mistake? Because I can’t really tell at this point.”

Link who chose family, Impa who chose duty, and herself who… doesn’t know what to choose anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things were getting too fluffy, I decided to change that.


	4. link should really use castle service more often

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Musings from a child who doesn't know how to be a child (but he's trying).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was supposed to be long, but I'm an impatient gremlin and decided to cut the rest for the next chapter.

He slowly wakes to the feeling of small hands combing his bangs, a tinkling voice humming a tune, and the taste of sugar magic. 

A fairy? 

"It's been a while since you've slept this peacefully, hasn't it?" they muse, brushing his hair and sprinkling their sweet fairy dust on his face. "Sleep as much as you like, a hardworking boy like you deserves it." 

Navi? 

_"Can Hyrule's destiny really depend on such a lazy boy?"_

No. Navi's sugar magic had tasted like the plump berries he and the others picked every spring. Sweet and tart, with a hint of mint. 

(And Navi left, so it can't be her.) 

_"You're pretty good at this! Have you done this before?"_

It's not Tatl either. Tatl's sugar magic tasted like candy, little treats grown-ups sometimes give him. Incredibly sweet with the burst of flavored syrups and powders mixed into it. Like fruit squeezed into a concentrated form. 

(And Tatl didn't stay, so it can't be her.) 

This one was a swirling mass of flavors. Sweet and spicy, sweet and sour, sweet and bitter. Dark and light, fire and water, all wrapped in a thin film of lightning. 

_"Boy of few words, I see. That's fine, the captain's the same!"_

Proxi. 

He slowly turns his head, letting Proxi know he's awake and about to get up. It was never good to startle a fairy, especially if a sudden jerk could fling them several feet away. He knows a few Kokiri still make that mistake, and are rewarded with bruised and grumpy fairies glaring at them.

Once he hears the fluttering of wings, he gets up to stretch and yawn wide. 

His mind chimes that it’s 13:00.

Slumping down, he lets his thoughts wander as he blinks away the lingering sleep in his eyes.

It’s 13:00 in Termina (military time was so much easier to use, he's glad Bigger Him taught it to him). Subtract four hours and thirty minutes to get this Hyrule's time.

“Eight-thirty, morning,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes. Early for most, not for diligent captains and generals. Bigger Him was likely out doing work, it would explain why he was the only one on the bed. 

He didn't leave him. He promised not to.

"Not Bigger Me anymore," he murmurs. Or Mister, or Captain, or Mr. Captain. "Dad."

Dad. He had a dad now, didn’t he? The Hylian equivalent to a guardian like the Great Deku Tree. He's not sure if it's the same with the Kokiri, but it has to be similar, right?

Bigger H—Dad (his dad?) already protected him from danger. From monsters and people alike. He makes sure he has food for the day, gives him potions when he's hurt, and a soft bed to sleep on that has a roof over it.

All without having to pay! That had been something that took getting used to. Kokiri traded with rupees and favors, not rupees and metal disks. He couldn't get a room with the promise of cleaner floors, a helping hand in cooking, or even the nature blessings he could cast. 

It had been really hard to get anything, he's not sure how Hylian kids do it.

So safety, food, and shelter. Things he had when he still thought he was a Kokiri, things the Great Deku Tree ensured they all had before he died. And even if a dad wasn't like the Great Deku Tree, he wasn't alone anymore. That's what he wants.

(That’s what he needs.)

Maybe this time it will last.

(Maybe, maybe, maybe, the only thing he can predict with certainty is the seconds that pass like a constant tick-tock in his ears.)

If this doesn’t last, he's as mentally ready as he'll ever be for the consequences. He feels he should get used to it at this point.

His early morning gloom is cut off by the soft rumble from his stomach. He still had some leftover rations last night, didn't he? Nibbling on them wouldn't hurt.

"Hungry, huh? It's about time for breakfast anyways," Proxi says, hovering above his head. "Let's head to the castle kitchens for a bite."

He blinks. "Kitchens?"

"Yep! An actual meal will do you good after months of campfire roasts and hardtack." She zooms towards one of dad's (that's how he should use that word, right?) bags, flying inside. Her voice is muffled as she continues talking. "At least Link had the mind to buy you more clothes.” He hears shuffling in the bag. “There's a limit to how many times you can wear your forest tunics." 

Clothes spew out of the bag and Proxi pops out seconds later. "Change out of your pajamas and wear these,” she says. “It should be enough to appease the delicate sensitivities of nobles if we pass them."

Ugh, that's right, they were in Hyrule Castle. Which meant snooty rich people like Asshole-mitale. He picks them up and examines them, at least they were pretty. "What about Bigg-dad?"

"We'll leave him a note, if he had asked a servant to prepare and bring you food ahead of time, we wouldn't be leaving in the first place," Proxi huffs. "Honestly, for a man who's good with tactics and strategy, he can be incredibly scatterbrained."

He giggles. "Can I write it?" he asks, dropping off the bed. "I wanna practice." He'll need to learn how to read and write in this era's language better now, won't he?

"Dress up and I'll find what Link has on his study for you to write on."

"Okay." He picks up the clothes Proxi had thrown. An oak brown hat, a white blouse, and a pair of pinstripe blue shorts with two... belts? Oh, to keep the shorts suspended and not falling off! Nice. Sometimes grown-up fashion can be smart. 

He picks the ribbon, he’s not sure how to wear this. "What's the red ribbon for?"

"It's a bowtie!" Proxi replies, voice loud so her voice is clear. She’s still looking for a blank sheet of paper for him to write on. "Leave it on the bed, I still remember how Link does his!"

He examines the long red ribbon. It felt silky and thin. Flimsy for something that was supposed to tie things. Very pretty to look at though, bright and shiny. "So what exactly is being tied?"

"Your neck!"

"... Why?"

"It suits the whole outfit!"

He takes back what he says about grown-up fashion being smart. "... How?"

"Nobles like it, and that’s what matters! Stop stalling and jammies off!"

Alright, alright. "Well, when in another era," he mutters, removing his pajama blouse.

* * *

"Oh, you look so cute," Proxi coos, flitting around him. "Thank Mother, Link has some eye for clothing.” She adjusts his hat, tilting it slightly. “Pity he didn't get any shoes."

"Said it would take too much time, shoes hurt if they don't fit well or something," he explains, putting on his boots. "What do I write on the note?"

"That we're going to the castle kitchens to get breakfast."

He stares at the blank sheet, summoning the few Hylian symbols he remembers in his mind. 

It's not a lot. With learning his era’s Hylian, then deciphering Termina’s script, and then being launched to a future so far that the writing system changed—his letters are more than just mixed. They’re jumbled and all over the place.

He knows more Sheikah than Hylian, mainly because very little has changed in Sheikan script.

"I'm gonna have to simplify that," he admits. Maybe he could mix it until he's better? He knows dad (dad!) can read Sheikan.

"Let me do your tie while you're thinking," Proxi says, holding up the red ribbon. It looks massive in her tiny hands. "Chin up and don't move too much."

"Does it really make me look good?" he asks, lifting the collar up so she can wrap the ribbon around easily. “Why the neck of all places?”

"Beats me, I've been with humans for years and I still don't get them." She shrugs. "Can't go wrong with ribbons, though. They're always pretty."

That's true.

* * *

He's been in this era's Hyrule Castle once, when dad had found him killing monsters in Hyrule Field. He'd been brought to the castle for safety, as most of the townsfolk were guided inside when the monsters attacked.

Everyone assumed he was a kid that got lost during the evacuation, nobody took him seriously when he said a swirling vortex pulled him in and spat him out in a place he didn't recognize. He's amazed at the denial grown-ups can have even when having literal portals slap them in the face. Dad believed him, but he was one man against a troop of doubtful soldiers.

It took walking up to the only Sheikah he saw, bringing out his ocarina, and saying, "If you're like my Impa, you probably know what this is and what it means when I have it because Sheikah are weirdly all-knowing like that. You think I’m lying?"

(Dad had looked horrified at that, it was pretty funny.)

That was the only time he got to see much of the castle. He doesn’t think the army barracks, watchtowers, and armory count. Now he has a chance to see it without the looming urgency of war.

It's massive, he feels like he's in a village of stone floors and walls rather than a castle. It takes several minutes to get to the food hallway, as Proxi calls it.

"This is way bigger than the one in my time," he says, looking at the tall archway they're passing by. "Waaay bigger."

"It's been rebuilt a lot," Proxi explains, flying in front to guide him. "Hyrule's been in several wars, lot of leeway in building when the landscape's been wiped clean. The Crown decided to upgrade and expand parts whenever it happens."

Whenever it happens? "So they build it again and again just like that?" He raises an eyebrow, sidestepping to let a servant push their cart without breaking their hurried pace. The various aromas of cooked food tickles his nose, and his stomach groans in need. "Doesn't that take time?"

"It takes a few weeks at most with magic."

"That's still time better spent on doing anything else if things weren't constantly destroyed," he points out, remembering how many times Castletown districts had been wiped into rubble due to Cia’s army. And that had been one war he had witnessed in this era, Proxi's saying there were multiple? "Nobody should get used to that."

"That's the way it's always been."

"It's really not," he protests, catching a wayward bun another servant had dropped and tossing it back to their basket. "The golden goddesses didn't create the world for their children to destroy it."

“The golden goddesses?” 

He looks at her in disbelief. “Din, Nayru, and Farore,” he says like it’s obvious. “The ones that made the triforce? The creators of our world?”

“... Huh.”

Huh? “Who did you think I was talking about?”

“Nobody calls them the golden goddesses.”

“Saying all three of their names must be a chore.”

Proxi doesn’t think she’s ever heard someone mention Nayru or Farore in their lives, barring the elder spirits and fairies. "I can see why the Great Mother likes you."

He blinks. "The Great Fairy? She's met me before, that's all."

She hums, turning left and narrowly avoiding another servant holding a tray and walking past them. "No, I think it's more than that. You rarely talk about the goddesses, but when you do, it's old-fashioned. Ancient like the Great Mother, it's… weird."

"You mean when I say stuff that isn't just about Din?" He raises an eyebrow. "I'm weird? Nobody mentions Hylia either and the kingdom is named after her, and _I’m weird?_ "

Ah, this was familiar. "Din’s the goddess of power, Hylia isn’t.” She shrugs “She's needed in war."

"Are you saying you don’t need your _guardian deity_ in war?" He asks, his emotions going beyond baffled and rising to incredibly offended. These words were coming from a fairy of all people, those words were coming from a fairy who witnessed the power of the triforce, who saw the Master Sword’s devastating might with her own two eyes. He had issues with that sword but he’d be an idiot not to feel its holy power.

Even Tatl had more divine awareness and she hadn’t grown up in a fairy haven either.

"Are you saying you don't need wisdom? Courage?” He thought Proxi would understand, she must know there’s more to fighting besides brute strength? “Power means nothing if you’re too stupid to use it. Means nothing if you’re too much of a coward too."

“You could have all the wisdom in the world and still be killed by a spear, you could be brave enough to face a lynel but never strong enough to defeat it,” she points out, shrugging. It’s a common argument she’s had with elders. Fairies and spirits who weren’t born in her time. “Power is needed to win, that’s reality.”

“Reality?”

“Winning is what matters in the end.” And it’s something he and the rest need to accept and deal with.

"There’s no point in winning if thou hast forgotten what thee was’t fighting for," he spits, his Kokiri accent becoming thicker as anger roots in his thoughts and grows. 

Winning? At this point, he hates it. 

He’d won against Ganondorf, he’d won against Majora, he had fought in a goddess-damn war and his side won as well. He had won. Gotten stronger. Bled, cried, and screamed all the way, but he won. 

That’s what mattered, right?

It took a random Hylian man with a blue scarf and his stubborn refusal to leave him alone to make him realize the answer was no. When he was carried because he was too tired to walk, or soothed with gentle words when the pain was too much that his eyes were damp with tears, or tucked in at night and lulled to sleep—when he had a little bubble of peace after months (years) of fighting, he finally had space for other thoughts besides survival and grief.

He won.

But nobody should have forced him to play a game of cruelty in the first place.

Nobody should start a game of cruelty either. His Ganondorf had won, had taken the Triforce of Power and taken Hyrule, had been its ruler. He had been the winner of his meticulously built game for seven years.

But the Gerudo he met hadn’t looked happy. Angry, vicious, and strong, but never happy. Misery still lingered in their village even after seven years of their king on Hyrule’s throne, it was just hidden better with the veil of power.

It’s hard to believe a man who said he did it for his sisters when he saw how much he _broke them._ Made them play again and again, made them strong. Made them winners.

(Sometimes he wonders if Ganondorf had been forced to play a game of cruelty as well, a game his Hyrule called the civil war. He wonders if he would have broke like him after a few more wins.)

Din was more than just power, she was the warmth of a brightly-lit hearth, the solid ground to support her younger sisters as they gave order and life to the world. Passion in its purest form.

Ganondorf had been none of those.

To want only power is walking the path of monsters.

"Farore giveth life and courage, Nayru giveth love and wisdom,” he continues, his words having a haunting melody to it. “Is that something thou has't in all the blood-soaked earth thee demanded from Din?"

He wonders if Din really is blessing Hyrule with the power to win wars. Not as a gift, but as a punishment. Here is the power you demand. Here is the land you want. But nothing else beyond that. Earth is harsh without laws to soothe its cracks and love to soften its rock, empty without life to make it fertile and courage to make it thrive.

Proxi feels ice creeping in her spine as she sees tendrils of dark magic wafting out of him, reaching and growing like roots in old forests. From the corner of her eye, the rushed pace of the bustling servants slow to a crawl. 

There are times she wonders if the predatory fierceness he has is from the mask, or if it's something he always had and the mask pulled it out for all the world to see.

He takes a deep breath and slowly exhales, time coming back to its normal pace as he does so. "Sorry for snapping at you," he mutters. "Your Hyrule can be so weird, even weirder than Te-” He shakes his head. “It's frustrating."

Is he aware of that phenomena? Legends say the Hero of Time was given that title due to his premonitions, but she’s starting to doubt if visions had been his only skill. 

They both side-step another passing servant.

"How long is this hallway?" he asks.

"The castle has several kitchens and dining areas," Proxi explains, relieved at the change of topic. "We have nobles, servants, and soldiers to feed constantly."

"Sounds stressful."

"It is."

They continue walking, using the brief reprieve from rushing servants to collect their thoughts.

"This era is filled with war and bloodshed even before Cia dug her fingers in it," Proxi sighs, resting on his shoulder. "I didn't think about it, because-" This was something she grew up with.

She's starting to understand the sad looks the Great Fairy gives to them, the longing in the Great Deku Tree’s voice. The horrified faces of elder fairies when she and the others share their views. She had thought it was old people not knowing the truth of the world, unable to adjust to reality, but maybe it’s the other way around.

She’s seen Hyrule in different eras, so vastly different from hers. It’s easier now to realize that her home could have been in a place where birds could fly freely and not worry about archers or spellcasters shooting at them, where high walls with spikes and ballistas didn’t surround Castletown, where fairies living together in pure water fountains wasn’t just a silly myth.

There was a time when war was the anomaly and not an expectation, and she doesn’t know what that’s like. Her normal (shouldn’t be normal) isn’t his normal.

"It may have been better in your era," she muses.

He frowns and looks away. "A safer time, yes," he agrees readily. He knows, he’s thought about it before, if he had the choice of staying here, would it be worth it? The alternative would have been going back. "But I wouldn't have been happy."

"Wouldn't you?" she asks, she may not know what it’s like to have no war in her life, but the thought sounds appealing regardless. "In an era of peace, you could have a normal childhood and-"

"Don't," he cuts, clenching his fists.

She winces as the sugar magic around him turns acrid, burnt and rotten. It's not uncommon for fairies to bond with humans. Humans give food and shelter while fairies give protection. There are those who bond close enough that their bonded develops their own sugar magic.

But it's also not uncommon for those bonds to break, be it from death or some other means.

When that happens, the human's sugar magic fades without the fairy there to nourish it. Converted into normal magic and giving the ex-bonded a boost in their reserves. There’s no harm when a fairy leaves.

But a broken bond's damage is not physical, and fairies can taste the pain it makes. Denial, grief, anger. All of it.

"I chose a normal childhood once and it brought me misery, there are things you can never get back," he says softly. He’s tired of chasing the past. "Let me choose this, if there are consequences, then it's something I'll deal with."

There's a lot of things she wants to say. Promises that he won't be alone anymore, assurances that they're strong enough not to die (or leave). But she's a fairy born and raised in war, and her experience silences her.

"Alright," she says instead, patting his shoulder. "We'll do our best to give you that."

It's the only thing she can say with confidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear there will be cute fluff back eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, nay, or meh?


End file.
